


The Valley of the Dragons

by fancyh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Dragon Merlin (Merlin), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 13:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18895717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyh/pseuds/fancyh
Summary: On a hunting trip, the Prince of Camelot gets separated from his knights and finds shelter in a hidden valley. There, he finds dragons. They had not been killed in the purge, but retreated from the world until the time of dragons could come again. Arthur learns more about the dragons and finds out that some of the most powerful dragons are even able to transform into a human. Thus, he meets the dragon boy Merlin and beings to forge his own destiny - to bring back the time of the dragons and unite the land of Albion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lao_paperman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lao_paperman/gifts).



> Fancyh: This was my first time doing a Reverse Bang and it was an amazing experience. Thank you to the Mods, and especially to my lovely artist lao for her stunning art that inspired me to write this story. She was incredibly supportive the whole way through and made the process so easy. Also, a huge thank you to my amazing beta, [inspired_being](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspired_being/pseuds/inspired_being), for whipping my story into shape and catching all my mistakes. I'm so excited to share this fic with everyone!
> 
> Lao: I had this idea of Merlin actually being a dragon, or partly a dragon but I had no idea what to do with this idea. Thanks to the Mods, this years Reverse Bang was my rescue. A huge thank you to the lovely fancyhwrites, for choosing my art and prompt. Lots of love from me <3
> 
> Artwork is embedded in chapter 2!

* * *

#  Prologue

* * *

 

Arthur ran. Branches whipped at his face, craggy peaks loomed ahead and blocked out the sun. If he could just get to the mountains, he might escape. Then again, he might die in the mountains, but he’d take his chances over a swarm of bandits any day.

 

The _thud thud_ of hooves behind him matched the pounding of his heart. His muscles burned as he forced himself faster. The trees thinned, giving way to rock, and the shadows seemed to lengthen, the sun burning hot on the back of Arthur’s neck. He scrambled over the rocks at the base of the mountain, cliffs towering high above him. Impenetrable, supposedly, but he only needed a place to hide until the bandits passed and he could try and find his men again.

 

It was a rare elk that had brought them out this far; the promise of a good hunt far away from the castle and his responsibilities. They wanted to bring it back in time for the Midsummer festival. What they weren’t expecting was the horde of men, skilled with sword, who seemed to care nothing for riches and everything for killing Arthur. He had a suspicion they were mercenaries hired by Cenred, who’d been subtly pushing at their borders for a while now, knowing Uther’s death was near and thinking Camelot weak.

 

It wouldn’t matter who they were if they caught him - he’d be dead either way. He glanced back, scanning the treeline for his pursuers, and found himself stepping into open air, tumbling down into a narrow ravine and twisting his ankle as he landed.

 

“Ow,” Arthur hissed, a hand going to his ankle as he attempted to stand. He tried to put weight on it and winced. Hopping, he braced himself on the rock face with a scraped and bloodied hand. To his surprise, the rock moved.

 

With a rumble, an opening appeared. _Magic,_ Arthur thought. The kind of magic that wasn’t supposed to exist anymore; not since the Purge.

 

Shouts sounded and Arthur peered into the darkness, hesitating. A clatter of feet on stone, and he made his decision. He hobbled forward into the tunnel. The door shut behind him with a loud grind of stone on stone, and he was alone.

 

* * *

# Chapter 1

* * *

 

The tunnel was long and winding. Arthur followed the wall with one hand as he limped onwards and prayed it ended somewhere. To die in darkness was not a fate he desired.

 

After hobbling along for many minutes, a glimmer of light appeared ahead and he sped up, going as fast as he could on his twisted ankle. It throbbed but didn’t seem to be any more serious than a sprain. The light intensified as he continued forward until it blinded him, and then he stepped out into a whole new world.

 

He blinked and shielded his eyes as they adjusted before staring slack jawed at the scene in front of him. A massive valley stretched out to either side, towering red cliffs hemming it in, hiding it from all but the sky. And soaring through the sky and perched on the rocks, scales shimmering in the sunlight…. _dragons._

 

Dragons were supposed to be gone, slaughtered in the Purge, yet dragons of all shapes and sizes flew past, the sound of wingbeats filling the air. Eyes snapped in his direction, claws scraping rock. A roar, and the dragons wheeled and crawled in every direction, roaring in answer. They surrounded him as he stood, unable to move, stunned into silence. A large golden dragon dropped down in front of Arthur, shaking the very earth, and regarded him with swirling golden eyes.

 

“Arthur Pendragon. We meet at last.”

 

Arthur gaped, shock spurring him into speaking. “How do you know my name?”

 

The dragon chuckled, or at least Arthur thought he did. The flash of teeth made him nauseated.

 

“I know many things, young Prince. What matters is what _you_ know.”

 

“You can talk,” Arthur said stupidly, still reeling.

 

“A keen observation,” the dragon replied, and Arthur had the feeling he was being laughed at.

 

“Dragons are mindless beasts,” he said, hand hovering over his sword though he knew it would do no good. “What are you?”

 

“Forget everything you know about dragons, young Prince.” The dragon’s head lowered, and Arthur straightened up, refusing to be cowed. “You have been fed lies and deceit, but the time of your destiny is arriving. Would you like to know the truth?”

 

“The truth of what?”

 

The dragon smiled, sharp teeth and glittering eyes. “Everything.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur stepped through the entrance to the rough-hewn cave nestled into the rock, peering into the dim light as his heart fluttered against his breastbone. _Dragons._ They had not all died in the Purge, as his father had told him. No, they had only hidden in the last safe place, a refuge where none could find them. _The Valley of the Dragons._ It should have surprised Arthur, how quickly he accepted it, how quickly he regarded the dragons with respect rather than fear, but he had learned his lesson about old prejudice long ago. It was Morgana who had come to him in the night, scared and brimming with an anger borne of hurt, eyes flashing with a secret too deadly to be spoken. _Magic._ He’d cast aside Uther’s fear and hatred, and sheltered her. Now Uther’s time was coming to an end, and soon it would be Arthur’s. His and Morgana’s. The time of magic, and, perhaps, dragons.

 

The books had been burned, those who knew silenced one way or another, and Arthur had grown up believing what he was told - that dragons were vicious, mindless beast. But after Morgana he should have known better than to trust anything his father said. No, far from being vicious; dragons were _magic,_ pure and powerful, intelligent and wise. The most powerful….were _human._ Or enough, at least. Capable of changing their forms to resemble a human, capable of thought and reason and humanity. His father had slaughtered all but two, who then had a son.

 

“Hello?” Arthur called. A rustling, dragging sound, and then a figure emerged from the depths, feet bare under the long tunic and trousers that draped his body, skin smooth and pale. As he moved closer the rest of his features appeared; a thick tail curling around his ankles, a hint of dark wings folded against his back. The end of the tail was spear-like, bordered by twin curling spikes and the flesh as it traveled upwards was dark and ridged with scales. It disappeared into his lower back and Arthur’s eyes dragged up, taking in angular hip bones under thin fabric, lightly muscled arms, and a blue neckerchief wound around a pale throat. His face looked as if it was cut from glass; high cheekbones and full lips, black hair curling around his prominent ears and over his forehead. He was beautiful, Arthur thought with a shock.

 

Those lips curled into a small smile, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Hello,” the dragon boy said, voice smooth as honey. “I’m Merlin.” He held out a hand to shake.

 

Arthur ignored the hand, too focused on the lines of Merlin’s body and the way his tail twitched restlessly against the stone.

 

“Arthur Pendragon,” he said, keeping his distance. “Prince of Camelot.”

 

Merlin’s shoulders tightened slightly, a scowl turning down his lips. “I know who you are.”

 

Arthur took in the defensive pose, the stubborn glint in his eyes. “I’m not my father.”

 

“I know,” Merlin said shortly, but the tension eased from his body and he took a step closer, head slightly cocked and nostrils flaring. “Apparently you’re my destiny, or some rubbish like that.”

 

“Rubbish?” Arthur protested, holding still as Merlin circled him, still sniffing like a suspicious cat. He couldn’t say he didn’t agree that the destiny business was slightly insane, but he was a little offended, nevertheless.

 

“Mmm,” Merlin said, stopping in front of Arthur and leaning in close. His eyes were as blue as sapphires, with small gold flecks dancing in their depths. “Kilgharrah keeps going on about coins and destiny or something like that, but to be honest I don’t even listen anymore. Trying to figure out what he’s saying just gives me a headache.”

 

“I can see that.” Arthur swallowed as Merlin leaned even closer, their faces inches apart. He smelled like fire and smoke, and Arthur’s head swam. “He’s very...cryptic.” Come to think of it, Kilgharrah _had_ said something about coins and destiny, not that Arthur could remember exactly what it was right then. Something about uniting Albion too, which sounded mad.

 

Merlin’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he flashed Arthur a grin edged with sharp teeth before drawing back. Arthur’s head cleared and he blinked rapidly, trying to find equilibrium again. He’d never felt so affected, so off balance.

 

“Come on,” Merlin said. “Why don’t you sit down and let me tend to that ankle.”

 

He turned, giving Arthur a view of the ridges continuing up his spine from his tail, blending into the base of his wings. His tunic was parted around them, and they were folded flat against his back, tips hanging down just past his hips. The skin was leathery and dark between the bones that splayed out like fingers, two sharp spikes curling at the bend. Arthur inexplicably wanted to see what they felt like under his hands.

 

He followed Merlin deeper into the cave, towards signs of life. He looked around slowly, noticing dried herbs strung up, racks of tinctures, and a bundle of furs at the back that must be where Merlin slept. The walls had been drawn on with charcoal, childish and blocky down low and smoother as they spread upwards, outlines of dragons and people and flowers. Merlin had lived here his whole life, Arthur thought with a pang of sadness. He’d never left.

 

Merlin gestured for him to sit on a fur he pulled out, rummaging through the herbs and tinctures. He knelt down next to Arthur’s leg, pulled off his boot with sure hands and poked at Arthur’s swollen ankle.

 

“Ow,” Arthur hissed, jerking away.

 

“Stop moving,” Merlin grumbled, resuming his prodding. Honestly, he was worse than Gaius. “It’s only a slight sprain,” he finally deduced, turning away to make a poultice. “A couple of days rest and you’ll be good as new.”

 

Arthur nodded even though Merlin couldn’t see him. A comfortable silence fell as Merlin began to bind Arthur’s ankle, fingers hot against his skin.

 

“How do you know all this?” Arthur asked, watching the surety of Merlin’s movements.

 

“My parents taught me,” Merlin replied without looking up. “My mother will be back tomorrow.” He secured the bandage around Arthur’s ankle and stood. “There. Are you hungry? I have rabbit.”

 

Arthur spared a moment to wonder how Merlin had killed it before deciding he didn’t want to know. He shifted into a more comfortable position next to the fire pit and watched as Merlin snapped his fingers, a flame suddenly dancing at the tips as his eyes burned gold. He knelt next to the fire and blew on his hand, making the flame lick and curl onto the wood, catching. Arthur stared, fascinated, as the flame on his fingers snuffed out, and Merlin rocked back on his heels. Soon the rabbit was popping and snapping over the fire, the smell making Arthur’s mouth water.

 

He startled when Merlin reached straight into the fire, plucking out the spit. “No!” he shouted, grabbing Merlin’s arm and yanking it back only to see smooth skin where there should be burns.

 

Merlin laughed, but made no move to take his arm from Arthur. “Dragon, remember? Fire does not burn me.”

 

Arthur felt his face heat and he let go of Merlin’s arm. “Right.”

 

Merlin laughed again, picking apart the rabbit with deft fingers and passing a haunch to Arthur. The meat was warm and tender, perfectly cooked, and Arthur felt Merlin’s eyes on him as he ate, trying to ignore the tail twitching inches from him.

 

There was a skittering from the entrance to the cave, and a small dragon bounded into view, scales pure white. It was only the size of a large cat, and - once one got past the teeth and claws - almost cute, Arthur thought, as it crawled into Merlin’s lap and chirped. Merlin ripped off a chunk of meat and fed her, a smile curving his lips.

 

“This is Aithusa,” he said, stroking a hand down the dragon’s back. “She’s just a baby. Say hello, Aithusa.”

 

Aithusa chirped again and then wriggled out of Merlin’s grasp, hopping over to Arthur and sniffing him curiously. He held stock still, staring at Merlin helplessly as the tip of a claw snagged in his trousers. Merlin just chuckled, unconcerned, and Arthur’s gaze turned to a glare as Aithusa climbed his leg, causing pinpricks of pain, and tried to steal his food.

 

“Get her off,” he hissed, waving the haunch in the air over Aithusa’s head.

 

“She likes you,” Merlin said around a mouthful of food. Aithusa leapt with a flutter of wings and snagged the rabbit right out of Arthur’s hand, diving out of reach. She laid on the other side of the fire to gnaw her prize, tail wiggling happily. Arthur turned his glare back on Merlin.

 

“That dragon stole my food!”

 

Merlin shrugged. “You let her have it.”

 

“I-what-you-” Arthur sputtered. He scowled. “Get me another.”

 

“I’m not your servant, you spoiled prat. You can’t just make demands. _”_ Merlin bared his teeth slightly.

 

Arthur sighed. He was beginning to think Morgana and Merlin would get on terribly well. “May I have another piece...please?”

 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Merlin grinned and tossed him another piece, impervious to Arthur’s glower. He tossed scraps to Aithusa as he ate, studying Arthur like he was the extraordinary one.

 

“What’s it like?” he asked finally. “Camelot?”

 

Arthur shrugged. “Big, I suppose. Crowded. Beautiful,” he added, thinking again of Merlin trapped in this valley his whole life. “When the morning sun hits it, it makes everything seem to glow.”

 

“I’ve never seen a castle,” Merlin mused thoughtfully. “What do you people _do_ all day?”

 

“Well, there’s training, and council meetings, and lots of paperwork to be done. The servants do things like cleaning and cooking and all that every day. Everyone has something they do, a trade. There’s blacksmiths and weavers and leather workers and everything in the lower town. Outside the castle is the farmers, who grow all our food.”

 

“How many people are there?”

 

“Hundreds. More than.”

 

Merlin’s eyes grew big with wonder, hands stilling. “I’ve never seen that many humans.” He glanced at Arthur, shy suddenly. “I’ve never met a human before you.”

 

“Really?” Arthur stared in surprise. “Never?”

 

Merlin shook his head. “Not met, anyway. My father…” He sucked in a breath then kept going. “He used to go out to get supplies. He knew someone who would help him. He never let me go, always said it was too dangerous. The first time he did....” He shook his head. “It happened so fast. They killed him, and I killed them, but it was too late. A crossbow bolt to the heart.”

 

Bandits, Kilgharrah had said during his talk with Arthur. Only a year ago. Time enough for the grief to have faded, but not disappeared. Merlin’s mother was his only family left, and the only other dragon who could turn human.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I wish…” That his father hadn’t been so ruthless, perhaps. That he hadn’t been lied to his whole life. That he could have done something. It was an empty sentiment; it was useless to wish for things, he had found. It never made them true.

 

“I know,” Merlin said, and there was forgiveness in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

#  Chapter 2

* * *

 

After a night in the cave, listening to Merlin shift and grumble, Arthur woke to a woman entering, arms full of herbs and tail dragging behind. Her features were so similar to Merlin’s that Arthur knew who she was immediately. She smiled at him as he stood, a tiredness around her eyes that spoke of grief.

 

“Good morning, Prince Arthur,” she said, as Merlin uncurled himself from where he lay on the furs at the back of the cave. “I heard that you will be staying with us. I hope Merlin has taken good care of you?”

 

He saw Merlin scrunch up his face at his mother from the corner of his eye.

 

“Yes, my lady,” he said, bringing out his formal voice. “Everyone’s been quite lovely.”

 

“Oh.” Her eyes crinkled in flattery, a hand straightening the kerchief in her hair. “Call me Hunith, dear.”

 

“Hunith,” Arthur repeated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

He didn’t miss the looks Merlin and his mother exchanged; one knowing, one annoyed. Hunith bustled around the cave preparing a simple breakfast and fussing over Arthur’s ankle before giving him an improvised crutch of wood and leading him out into the sunshine.

 

They walked slowly through the Valley, Hunith pointing out where the dragons lived in caves hewn into the rock. Some were still sleeping, curled around each other tightly, others were perched on rocks to soak up the warmth. Merlin trailed beside Arthur, offering his own commentary, dry-witted and wry.

 

“Oh, he’s intolerable,” he would say, pointing to this dragon or that. “He lectures me whenever I so much as sneeze.”

 

“Merlin,” his mother would sigh, tail whipping around to cuff him lightly. “Be nice.”

 

Arthur hid his smile in his hand, thoroughly charmed.

 

“The cliffs are too high for any human to pass,” Hunith was saying, pointing upwards at the towering mountains of rock. “That’s why we settled here after we fled. The passage you came through was made so Balinor and I could go through without anyone seeing, to get supplies.”

 

“Who did you meet?” Arthur asked curiously. “Merlin mentioned - he said you knew someone on the outside?”

 

“Yes.” Hunith nodded. “There’s a man in Camelot, who helped Balinor escape when Uther began his Purge. He sent Balinor to me, and we came here. His partner Alice also left when the Purge began, and she settled near the mountain. She helps us get food and clothing and anything we need here.”

 

“It sounds…”

 

“Lonely?” Hunith’s eyes glimmered with sadness. “Perhaps. It has been so long since I have been able to walk freely through the world. But I have accepted my life here. Dragons take care of each other.” She ruffled Merlin’s hair and kissed his temple as he grumbled. “Here, we are safe, until the day comes that dragons and magic are banned no longer.”

 

“You believe that day will come?”

 

Hunith leveled him with a serious look. “No, Prince Arthur. I _know_ it will.”

 

* * *

 

Hunith left near midday to tend to a dragon’s injured wing, leaving Merlin to finish the tour. Arthur was growing tired, Merlin subtly helping to balance him as he hobbled on his crutch.

 

“And this is Leowyth. Leowyth, this is Prince Arthur.”

 

The large grey dragon rumbled at Arthur and then turned away, obviously disinterested.

 

“He’s a bit grumpy,” Merlin whispered, breath hot in Arthur’s ear. He shivered, trying not to lean into the heat emanating from Merlin’s body. It was hard when he was actively using Merlin to balance. He’d been introduced to so many dragons his head was spinning. His father would have had a fit.

 

“Is he going to eat me?” Arthur asked, just to hear Merlin laugh.

 

“I’ve told you, Arthur. Dragons don’t eat people.”

 

“Right. You’re _civilized.”_ He rolled his eyes.

 

Merlin shoved his shoulder. “Prat.”

 

“Idiot.”

 

“Well, at least I don’t snore.”

 

Arthur gasped. “I do _not_ snore!”

 

“I honestly thought a pig had got in. It was just this loud, rumbling snore, with lots of snorting-”

 

Arthur elbowed Merlin, pleased when he yelped.

 

“Ow,” Merlin complained.

 

“Don’t be such a girl. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

 

“Now I am going to eat you.”

 

Arthur snorted. “Please. I could take you apart with one blow.”

 

“I could take you apart with less than that.”

 

Arthur laughed. “Well, come on then.”

 

Merlin smiled, sharp-toothed, and then his tail swept Arthur’s legs out from under him, landing him on his back with a thud. Merlin straddled him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down, the point of his tail at Arthur’s throat. His eyes were swirling gold, embers smoldering along his arms, hands twin points of scorching heat against Arthur’s skin.

 

“You cheated,” Arthur managed, voice breathless. He was suddenly aware of how dangerous Merlin was, the deceptiveness of his slight frame. He was a _dragon,_ and Arthur was at his mercy.

 

“Maybe,” Merlin said with a grin. He leaned impossibly closer, faces inches apart, then suddenly frowned, looking worried as he pulled back. “Your ankle.”

 

“What?” Arthur was still reeling from the proximity.

 

“Your ankle,” Merlin repeated, face creasing. “Oh gods. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He sat up and got off Arthur entirely, making him feel abruptly cold. He pulled up Arthur’s trouser leg and poked at his ankle.

 

“It’s fine,” Arthur assured him, sitting up. “Honestly, Merlin, stop hovering.” The change from wild creature to fretting nursemaid was dizzying.

 

“No more walking,” Merlin stated firmly. “Come on, you’re going back inside.”

 

“Now hang on.” Arthur resisted Merlin’s attempts to chivvy him up. “I am not going back in that cave all day.”

 

“What’s wrong with my cave?”

 

“It’s a cave, Merlin!” Arthur rolled his eyes. “It’s...it’s dark, and cramped, and...and it’s a cave. No one likes caves.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Well, you’re…” Arthur waved his hands at Merlin vaguely. “You know.”

 

“A dragon?” Merlin’s gaze took on a challenging glint.

 

“Well, you’re not exactly _normal_ , are you?”

 

This time, it was hurt that flashed in Merlin’s eyes. He turned away, expression stony, and made to get up.

 

“Wait.” Arthur grabbed his wrist, growing used to the heat of Merlin’s skin. “Just….I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

 

Merlin glanced up at him, wary. “I know I’m not normal,” he said quietly. “I’m the last -” He broke off.

 

“The last of your kind,” Arthur finished softly, thumb rubbing against Merlin’s wrist unconsciously. He tugged, drawing Merlin towards him, until he could run his hand up his arm, dragging fingers over the line of his shoulder. Merlin shivered, and Arthur wondered how long it had been since anyone had touched him. _Never,_ his brain supplied. Never like this.

 

“It’s...lonely,” Merlin said, those bright blue eyes fixed on Arthur. “I am a dragon, but I am also this.”

 

“Human?” Arthur brushed fingers over Merlin’s collarbone.

 

“I’m not sure.” Merlin hesitantly reached forwards, placing a hand on Arthur’s chest. “I’ve never known a human like you.”

 

“You’ve never known a human at all,” Arthur pointed out.

 

Merlin’s lips quirked slightly, eyes still drawn to where his hand was fiddling with the laces of Arthur’s tunic. “True. Maybe you’re not special.”

 

Arthur mock-gasped, and the moment was broken. “I’ll show you not special.”

 

* * *

 

“I have to go back,” Arthur said that night, as they sat around the fire again, Hunith bedding down with her injured dragon. “My men will be looking for me.”

 

He could have sworn disappointment flashed across Merlin’s face, before it turned stern once more.

 

“You’re going nowhere until that ankle is healed.”

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Are you just trying to get me to stay?”

 

“No,” Merlin said unconvincingly. “Why on earth would I want you to stay? You’re arrogant, you’re rude, you have awful manners, you snore like a dragon-”

 

“I do not!”

 

“-you’re a prat, you smell-” Merlin clamped his mouth shut, suddenly coloring.

 

“What?”

 

“What?” Merlin echoed innocently.

 

“You were going to say something else, just then.”

 

“No, I wasn’t.” Merlin hid his face behind a piece of meat, the tips of his ears flushing. His tail wriggled nervously, a clear tell.

 

“Come on, out with it.”

 

“Out with what?”

 

“What’s got your tail in a twist.”

 

Merlin glared at his tail like it had wronged him, clamping a hand over it. “Nothing.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

 

“Fine.” Arthur sighed. “I suppose I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning then.”

 

“You can’t! Your ankle!”

 

“Well, I can just have you fly me, can’t I? Or Kilgharrah.”  


Merlin _growled,_ a sound that went straight to certain parts of Arthur’s anatomy. He drew in a sharp breath, lightheaded all of a sudden, and blinked through blurred vision as Merlin glared at him, tail thrashing like an angry cat.

 

“Kilgharrah is _not_ flying you,” Merlin hissed.

 

Arthur raised a brow. “What about you?”

 

“I’m not a horse.” Merlin glowered.

 

“No, you’re a dragon.”

 

“You’d really let a dragon carry you?” Merlin asked, looking skeptical. “I thought you didn’t trust us.”

 

“I trust you.” Arthur held Merlin’s gaze, letting him see the truth in his eyes. It was true. He trusted Merlin, even if he’d only known him for little over a day. There was something about Merlin that was just _good._ A lovable sort of innocence tempered by steel. Or rather, flame.

 

Merlin colored, looking away. “I trust you too,” he mumbled. His eyes darted to Arthur once more, then flitted away. “I don’t want you to leave.”  


_I don’t want to be alone again,_ Arthur heard. For all that he could talk to the dragons, Merlin was incredibly alone.

 

“I won’t,” Arthur said. “Not yet.”

 

“Good.” Merlin plucked another piece of meat from the fire, tossing a chunk to Aithusa. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur was just drifting off to sleep, Aithusa curled against his side, when he was woken by rustling and something dragging across the floor, then the sound of breathing close by. Another rustle and Merlin’s breathing came closer.

 

“Merlin.”

 

“What?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

A beat of silence. “Nothing.”

 

Arthur grunted and tried to go back to sleep, only to swim back to consciousness at the sound of Merlin moving closer yet.

 

“Merlin.”

 

“Mhmm?”

 

“You’re moving.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Twice more, Arthur was kept awake by Merlin shifting, and twice more Merlin denied it, driving Arthur mad.

 

“Merlin, what it is?” he demanded finally. “Tell me before I knock you out.”

 

The rustling stilled. “Dragons...sleep together?” Merlin said, sounding bashful. “But when I’m in this form….”

 

“Are you saying you want a cuddle?”

 

There was a telling silence. Arthur sighed.

 

“Just get over here.”

 

He startled when Merlin plastered himself to his side, an arm thrown over him and head resting on Arthur’s chest. He sighed and shifted before falling still, his heat seeping into Arthur. Arthur tentatively looped an arm around him, rubbing his side softly, and Merlin burrowed deeper into him, a rhythmic vibration starting in his chest.

 

“Are you purring?”

 

The sound stopped.

 

“No?”

 

Arthur sighed, tightening his arms around him. “Go to sleep, Merlin.”

 

The last thing he knew was Merlin’s weight against him and his soft rumbling purr in his ears.

 

* * *

 

Arthur woke before Merlin, warm and comfortable. Merlin’s limbs were wrapped around him, tail heavy across his knee, and a leg rucked up against his thigh. His face was pressed to the curve of Arthur’s throat, with soft, rumbling snores emanating from his chest and hair tickling Arthur’s cheek. Arthur absentmindedly traced the ridges of his back, which felt like armor, only rougher, hard and unyielding under his fingers. He wondered at how natural it felt to wake this way, wrapped in Merlin’s arms.

 

Merlin shifted and his breathing changed, muscles tensing and relaxing in a stretch.

 

“Morning,” Arthur murmured, continuing his soft touches.

 

Merlin inhaled, nosing the line of his throat. “Hnng,” he grumbled sleepily, and hitched his leg up on Arthur’s hip. Heat rushed to Arthur’s face as he became aware of his arousal, so close to Merlin’s bare leg. Merlin had taken off his trousers to sleep, saying something about his tail and bunching. Now, Arthur half-wished he’d kept them on.

 

“Merlin,” he tried, voice hoarse.

 

“Hmm?” Merlin _licked_ his neck, making Arthur groan.

 

“Merlin, what are you doing?”

 

“You smell good,” Merlin mumbled, still nosing at Arthur’s throat.

 

“That’s...hnng...Merlin, stop.” Arthur panted as Merlin raised his head, peering down at Arthur worriedly.

 

“What’s wrong?” He looked genuinely befuddled and Arthur knew instinctively that he had no idea of his effect on Arthur. It was not a conversation to be had at that moment with Aithusa still curled up on Arthur’s other side.

 

“Nothing.” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hip. “Just...god, you have no idea what you do to me.”

 

Merlin frowned. “Is that...bad?”

 

“No-Merlin-” Arthur smiled helplessly. “You idiot.” He pressed a quick kiss to Merlin’s forehead, watching as Merlin went slightly cross-eyed.

 

“What was that for?”

 

“Nothing.” Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, keeping him still. “Tell me again, about the dragons?”

 

Merlin sighed happily, settling against Arthur’s chest again. “Once upon a time, the world was full of dragons…”

 

* * *

 

Arthur stood at the mouth of the cave, watching as dragons wheeled overhead. Merlin kept shooting him glances, tail twitching nervously as he stripped off his tunic and neckerchief, piling them on the ground. He stood in the middle of the valley, the rising sun glancing off his pale skin, highlighting the ridge of scales down his back, and the shadows made by the few scattered smooth scales on his chest and abdomen. Arthur’s gaze dipped lower, taking in the light pattern of scales that led down to Merlin’s cock, soft and human. His legs were all pale, creamy skin, feet bare and toes curling on the heated rock.

 

He’d whispered it shyly into Arthur’s chest that morning, that he needed to fly, and Arthur had been struck dumb by the thought. He wanted to see Merlin, wanted to know all the hidden parts of him. He also wanted to never stop touching him, to never let him out of his sight. They were impossible wishes, perhaps, as all wishes were, but Arthur _wanted_ them nonetheless. He wanted Merlin.

 

Merlin glanced over again and then closed his eyes. Scales erupted all over his body. They lengthened and grew and his wings unfurled like great sails. His hands turned into claws, while his body merged with his tail into one coherent whole. A great black dragon stood in his place, scales glinting in the light, back a ridge of spines. His head was sleek and sculpted, eyes more gold than blue and the ridge of spines just barely continued down his forehead. Arthur found himself stepping forwards, ankle forgotten, entranced by the powerful being in front of him.

 

Merlin turned, a familiar scolding look in his eyes that made Arthur sure it was him. But he didn’t protest as Arthur walked up to him, reaching out a hand. After a second’s hesitation, Merlin lowered his head, letting Arthur rest his palm against the smooth scales.

 

Aithusa screeched above them, and Merlin looked up, then back at Arthur. Arthur stepped back, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Go.”

 

Merlin took a step and launched himself into the sky, wings beating powerfully, sending eddies of dust spiraling through the air. He flew up, circling with the other dragons, wheeling through the sky with graceful abandon. Arthur laughed out loud, overcome by the sight of the dragons, so many they blotted out the sun. To think, he once believed them evil.

 

By the time Merlin returned to earth, Arthur was sitting on a faded blanket at the edge of the cave, leaning back on his hands with head tipped up towards the sky. Watching.

 

Merlin landed with a soft thump, claws digging into the earth. A shimmer and shudder and his form shrunk, his tail and wings the only things remaining of his dragon visage as skin replaced scales. He pulled on his tunic and neckerchief, a surety in his movements that wasn’t there before. The tunic hung just below his hips, sensually draping over the fine lines of his body, and Arthur was overcome by the need to touch, to possess.

 

“Come here,” he commanded.

 

Merlin tilted his head, hair windswept as he sauntered towards Arthur until he stood before him, utterly unselfconscious. Arthur reached out, hooking his hands behind Merlin’s knees and pulling him down on top of him. Merlin’s hands flew out to brace himself on Arthur’s shoulders.

 

“Oh,” Merlin breathed, his warm weight settling on Arthur’s lap. Arthur’s hands moved upwards of their own accord, tracing the ridges of his spine, brushing the edge of a delicate wing, which unfurled to stand out from Merlin’s back, catching the air.

 

Merlin gasped softly, back arching, a hand fisting in Arthur’s tunic. He leaned forwards to nose at Arthur’s neck, a quiet rumble vibrating his chest as Arthur’s questing hands slowed, folding around Merlin’s back and dancing over leathery scales. He was achingly warm against Arthur, his fire and brimstone scent in Arthur’s nose. Arthur felt lightheaded, every sense taken up by Merlin, a spark igniting his heart. He had never felt like this about anyone; this connection, the inexplicable pull.

 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

 

Merlin gave a low rumble and then pulled back just far enough to see him, their faces inches apart.

 

“Was that a compliment?”

 

“Shut up,” Arthur muttered, gaze flicking down to Merlin’s lips, which were curved in a teasing smile. A glance up showed Merlin doing the same, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yes,” Merlin said, sounding dazed. “Whatever you want. What do I do?”

 

Arthur blinked, thrown. “You don’t know how to kiss?”

 

Merlin shook his head, looking shy. “I don’t...I’ve never…”

 

“Shh.” Arthur resumed stroking Merlin’s sides. “Idiot,” he said fondly. “Of course you don’t know. But I’ve been told I’m an excellent teacher.”

 

“Really? Are you sure they weren’t just telling you that because you’re the Prince?”

 

“Merlin?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Shut up.” Arthur brought a hand up to cup Merlin’s jaw, then leaned forwards slowly, pressing their lips together. Merlin gasped, mouth parting, and Arthur used it to deepen the kiss, guiding Merlin firmly but gently. Merlin’s inexperience was obvious, kisses clumsy and rushed, but Arthur would take one kiss with him over a thousand with anyone else. His mouth was as hot as his skin, hotter even, lips soft and plush. Arthur’s hands moved back to his sides, holding gently as Merlin cradled his face, breaking the kiss to look down at him and sigh his name.

 

“Do you want this?” Arthur asked, needing to be sure.

 

“I want this,” Merlin responded, nose almost brushing his. “I want you.” His fingers trailed down Arthur’s neck, then his chest, undoing the laces of his tunic. Arthur’s breath hitched with every touch of hot skin on his, cock stiffening in his trousers. He felt Merlin’s answering arousal against his belly and dropped a hand to trace up a smooth thigh, rucking up the tunic and laying a hand over his hip. His other hand reached around to run his fingers over the base of Merlin’s tail, making him shudder and emit another rumble, back arching. Merlin pulled back, panting, eyes wild and dark.

 

“We should…”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur echoed. “I don’t fancy your mum watching us.”

  
Merlin laughed, hiding his face in Arthur’s shoulder. The tension ebbed, arousal turning into something softer, more languid. Arthur stroked down Merlin’s back as Merlin melted into him, purring like a cat, his tail thick and heavy over Arthur’s leg. The sun was still rising, painting the cliffs in shades of orange, the silhouettes of dragons dark against the sky. It was as if time was suspended, a golden haze over everything, the twin beats of their heart loud in the stillness. There was a dragon in Arthur’s arms and despite everything he’d been taught, it was beautiful and untamable and _his._ If this was destiny, perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

#  Chapter 3

* * *

 

“Your husband,” Arthur started, hesitant. “He was from Camelot?”

 

“Yes.” Hunith nodded, rebinding Arthur’s ankle with calloused fingers. Merlin was doing something or other with dragons all day, not that he could remember what, so Hunith had taken over the job of watching him. “He was a member of the court.”

 

“Really?” Arthur was surprised. He’d never even heard the name. “My father never said anything.”

 

“Of course he wouldn’t.” Hunith’s mouth had a bitter twist to it. “He tried to erase everything from that time, or so I’ve heard. But oh, no -  there used to be magic aplenty in Camelot. The sorceress Nimueh was your father’s Court Sorcerer and Balinor was a lord and emissary to the dragons. Many had magic, and used it freely. It was a time of great prosperity.”

 

“I have heard,” Arthur said carefully, “that Nimueh was the cause of my father’s vengeance. That she caused the death of my mother.”

 

Hunith looked surprised. “That may be. I do not know. Balinor rarely spoke of his life before the Purge and carried a hatred for men the rest of his life. I am old enough to remember, but I’m afraid Merlin knows very little about the outside world.”

 

“I know.” Arthur worried his lip, a bad habit he had never quite gotten rid of. “I cannot imagine how you have suffered.”

 

Hunith leaned forward, grasping his hands. “You must take him from this place, Arthur. He has no future here. He belongs at your side.”

 

Arthur hesitated. “It’s not safe…”

 

“As a mother, you wish for your child to be safe, but more than that, you wish them _happiness.”_ Hunith’s voice was firm. “He will never be happy here, not completely. It is his destiny to stand by your side, and I see how much you care for each other already. You’re like two sides of the same coin.”

 

Arthur studied her earnest face and her pleading eyes, then nodded. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I will keep him safe. No harm shall come to him in Camelot.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur helped Hunith for the rest of the day, grinding herbs and curing meats. She reminded him of Gaius, with her steady hands and fonts of knowledge. There were a few battered books scattered around her workshop, herbs and tinctures lining the walls. She treated wounds and smeared salve on dry scales, filed broken claws and spines, and inspected jagged teeth for decay. She was a physician in her own right, though perhaps more versed in dragon medicine than human, and Arthur found he had great admiration for her. She had fled a slaughter, borne a son, lost her husband, and helped her kind to survive all these years. As it was, Merlin would be the last of _her_ kind, the last who could turn human. It was more burden than anyone should bear.

 

He found Kilgharrah again on their rounds. The dragon regarded him with inscrutable golden eyes.

 

“I sense you have questions, young Pendragon,” Kilgharrah rumbled.

 

“Er, yes.” Arthur walked closer, stopping just in front of the immense dragon. “I suppose I am still coming to terms with...all of this.” He gestured with an arm, indicating the valley.

 

Kilgharrah huffed a breath. “Indeed.”

 

“And…” Arthur bit his lip. “Merlin.”

 

“Ah, yes.” Kilgharrah’s eyes glinted with… something. Arthur thought it might be humor. “The young dragon. What do you wish to know?”

 

“Is he….is he a dragon, or human?”

 

Kilgharrah chuckled. “He is both. In the beginning, the gods created both dragons and humans. To bring the two races together, they combined a human soul with a dragon’s. That is what Merlin is. But…” Kilgharrah leaned closer, hot breath washing over Arthur. “That is not all he is. He is the very last of his kind, born after the Great Purge, and his coming has been told in prophecies for centuries. He is magic itself; the most powerful dragon that ever has and ever will exist.”

 

_“Merlin?”_ Arthur said incredulously.

 

“Yes,” Kilgharrah replied. “The boy will do great things. And you, Arthur Pendragon, share a destiny with him. You are the Once and Future King who will unite the land of Albion. But you will need Merlin if you ever hope to achieve that.”

 

“Right,” Arthur said faintly. Kilgharrah had mentioned the prophecy before, but Arthur had been too overwhelmed by the mere fact that dragons existed to pay it much mind.  The thought of having some grand destiny on top of being King was almost too much to handle.

 

“You are only one side of a coin,” Kilgharrah rumbled, “Merlin is the other. Do not forget that, Pendragon.”

 

“I-I won’t,” he stammered.

 

Kilgharrah breathed a small plume of smoke and Arthur hastily mumbled a goodbye before he stumbled away, still reeling.

 

_Merlin,_ the most powerful dragon of all time? _Arthur,_ the Once and Future King?

 

He wasn’t sure he believed in destiny. If there was such a thing as destiny, Arthur thought it cruel and twisted. Was it destiny for his mother to die? For Uther to slaughter thousands?

 

What if he failed? Was destiny set in stone?

 

The stone walls offered no answer.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.” Merlin strode into the cave, wings flicking and settling on his back. Arthur reached out for him as he grew near, pulling him onto his lap.

 

“Hey,” he replied, smiling fondly as Merlin blinked down at him, illuminated by the last rays of the sun. “Did you enjoy whatever it was you were doing all day?”

 

Merlin scowled without heat and poked him in the shoulder. “I told you what I was doing.”

 

“Did you? I don’t remember that.”

 

“It must be all the knocks to the head,” Merlin said, long fingers running through his hair. “You’re addled.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“I don’t think a forgetful King would be good for a kingdommph-” Merlin was cut off abruptly as Arthur kissed him.

 

“Prat,” Merlin complained breathlessly as they parted.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Make me.”

 

“With pleasure.” Arthur leaned back in, gentler this time, kissing Merlin until he grew dizzy and had to pull back to breathe, forehead pressed against Merlin’s.

 

“Come with me,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “Come to Camelot.”

 

Merlin stilled, pulling back to look into Arthur’s eyes. “Do you mean that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But what about...your father, and the laws-”

 

“Shh.” Arthur brushed their lips together again. “My father is old, and his mind is failing. It will not be long before I am King. And when I am, I intend to change the laws. You will be free once more.”

 

He watched as hope bled into Merlin’s expression, eyes widening. “I could see Camelot?” he whispered. “I could leave the valley?”

 

“Yes. Everything. Anything. Just come with me.”

 

“Yes,” Merlin breathed. “Yes, _Arthur,_ Gods.” He kissed him with fervor, lips a fiery brand against his, and Arthur was drunk on him, intoxicated by the smell of his hair and the feel of him under his hands.

 

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Merlin murmured, nibbling on Arthur’s lip.

 

“Well, first you’ll have to fix my ankle.”

 

Merlin pulled back, squinting suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean use your magic, you idiot. Don’t pretend you haven’t been letting me hobble around like a fool because you didn’t want me to leave.”

 

Merlin flushed, looking slightly ashamed. “I’d never make you stay, I just-”

 

“I know. It’s alright.” Arthur grinned. “You can make it up to me.”

 

“How?” Merlin looked wary.

 

“Hmm. I’ll think of something. Now fix my ankle.”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Merlin sighed. “Honestly, I thought you were raised in a castle. Do they not teach you manners?”

 

“Oh, like dragons are any more polite. Bea..? Bern..rune...something nearly roasted me alive when I offered her food.”

 

“Bierunielth?” Merlin said, the intricate syllables tripping off his tongue too fast for Arthur to even hope to emulate.

 

“Sure,” he replied. “That one.”

 

Merlin chuckled, sitting back on Arthur’s thighs. “It’s rude to offer food if one is capable of getting it themselves. It implies that they are weak.”

 

Arthur wrinkled his nose. “That sounds…” He paused; tipped his head to the side, considering. “Actually, that makes sense.”

 

“Of course it does.” Merlin huffed. “Now, do you want me to fix your ankle or not?”

 

“ _Please_ fix my ankle, oh great one,” Arthur said regally.

 

Merlin pinched him and climbed off, crouching by his ankle and undoing the bindings. His hands were warm on his skin, slightly roughened by callouses, and he looked up at Arthur from under his lashes.

 

“I’m not...great at healing,” he said. “I’m much better at other magic.”

 

“According to Kilgharrah, you’re the most powerful dragon ever,” Arthur said quietly.

 

Merlin glanced down again, somehow diminished. “That’s what he says. All dragons have strong magic, but mine is stronger than the others. Apparently it’s to do with my destiny.”

 

“The ‘Once and Future King’?” Who was somehow supposed to be _Arthur._

 

Merlin colored all the way to the tips of his ears. “Maybe.”

 

“Well,” Arthur said, after a pause. “I don’t know if I believe in destiny, but I believe in you.”

 

“Thanks.” Merlin took a breath, skin still flushed pink, and darted a glance up at Arthur. “Okay, here goes.”

 

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them they were pure gold, swirling with magic. Heat wrapped around Arthur’s ankle and a tingling traveled all the way up his spine to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. Merlin looked beautiful, face half-illuminated and eyes glowing under his dark hair, cheekbones slanting sharply in his pale face. The dull throb in his ankle was swept away by the rush of magic, and when the gold in Merlin’s eyes faded it was clear his ankle was completely healed.

 

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed in awe.

 

Merlin glanced up at him. “Did I do it?”

 

Arthur rolled his ankle, free from the slightest twinge of pain. “It’s _healed.”_ He looks up at Merlin. “What else can you do?”

 

“Oh, um,” Merlin stammered. “I don’t...know? I mean, I can do elemental magic fine, I-”

 

“Elemental magic?”

 

“Like, um, earth, fire, water, air. Bending them to my will.”

 

“Show me,” Arthur demanded. “I want to see.”

 

Merlin blushed, and climbed into Arthur’s lap again, cupping his hands in the space between them.

 

“I’m best at fire. It’s part of being a dragon.” His eyes flashed and when he opened his hands, a small flame was sitting in his palms. Sparks travelled up and formed the shape of a dragon before dissipating. He trailed a hand on the cave floor and the dust swirled, small cracks opening up in the rock. “Earth,” he murmured. His eyes flashed again, hands moving gracefully, and the water lifted out of the washbasin, coalescing into glimmering tendrils that gradually sank back again. “Water. And Air,” Merlin whispered, and the wind caressed Arthur’s face, lifting strands of hair.

 

Merlin leaned in close, face inches from Arthur, his power intoxicating. “I could move objects with my mind before I could talk,” he said quietly, eyes still glowing golden. “My magic is a part of me, like my wings. I do not know what it is to live without it.”

 

“It’s beautiful,” Arthur said truthfully, voice hushed. “You’re beautiful. There’s just...something about you, Merlin. I don’t think I could bear to be parted from you.”

 

“You won’t.” Merlin pressed his lips to Arthur’s, then nuzzled at his jaw. “I will never leave your side.”

 

“It will be dangerous,” Arthur said, eyes fixed on Merlin.

 

“I know.” Merlin kissed him again.

 

“I am not King yet.”

 

“I know.” Merlin bit gently at his throat.

 

“You may not return.”

 

“I know.” Merlin cupped Arthur’s face in his hands and smiled. “And I don’t care. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, Arthur.”

 

“You barely know me,” Arthur pointed out, a last chance to let Merlin back out.

 

“I know that you’re brave, and noble, and kind-hearted. And one day, you’ll be the greatest king this land has ever known.”

 

“You believe that?”

 

Merlin smiled softly.  “I believe in you.”


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

#  Chapter 4

* * *

 

By the next morning Merlin was packed and ready to go. Hunith fought back tears as she hugged him and made Arthur promise to look after him. Merlin transformed into his full dragon form and Arthur swung the knapsack containing both their belongings on his back before climbing on, settling between Merlin’s spines. It was slightly terrifying, sitting astride a dragon, but he trusted Merlin.

 

Arthur met Hunith’s eyes and nodded, and then Merlin was taking flight. He leant forwards to grip onto Merlin's neck, heart in his throat. The world spun past in a blur of color, the wind whipping at his hair, Merlin’s scales warm under his palms. They leveled out and Arthur slowly sat up, watching in wonder as they soared through the clouds, wisps of white all around. The world grew smaller beneath them, a blur of green, villages reduced to tiny dots.

 

Arthur shut his eyes and spread his arms, feeling the wind caress his face and, in that moment, as if he were the one flying. He let out a whoop and Merlin chuckled beneath him, banking sharply and making him grip tightly again to keep from falling off.

 

“Merlin!” he shouted, breathless with exhilaration. “Do _not_ let me fall.”

 

“As if,” Merlin laughed, voice low and rumbling in dragon form as he craned his neck around to peer at Arthur. “Which way?”

 

Arthur glanced at the ground, then the horizon, seeing the path in his mind.

 

“Right,” he called, leaning low over Merlin’s back again. “Follow that river, it will take us to Camelot.”

 

Merlin adjusted course and their flight smoothed. Arthur was content to watch the world go by. The steady thrum of Merlin’s wings was peaceful, sunlight glinting off his scales and turning them iridescent. A few birds swooped past, chittering, before flying away.

 

The citadel finally came into view, white towers even more beautiful from above. Arthur instructed Merlin to land in a clearing a league away. He slid to the ground on wobbly legs. Merlin nudged him with his nose and Arthur scowled, pushing him away.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Whatever you say,” Merlin agreed glibly, scales shimmering and retracting until he stood in human form. Arthur opened the knapsack to retrieve his clothes and a white blur shot out, flapping around his head.

 

“Aithusa!” Merlin yelped. “What are you doing here?”

 

Aithusa chittered something and Merlin slapped a hand to his forehead.

 

“Ah, no! You can’t be here! Kilgharrah’s going to kill me. Oh, Gods.”

 

“Send her back,” Arthur said.

 

Merlin grimaced. “I can’t. It’s such a long way, and she’s so small, anything could happen to her-” He turned pleading eyes on Arthur. “She has to stay with me. I can take care of her.”

 

Arthur groaned. “What the hell are we going to do with a baby dragon in Camelot?”

 

“I’ll think of something. Just...first, can I have my clothes? I need to do the spell.”

 

“Right.” Arthur cleared his throat, reached into the knapsack and handed them over. Merlin pulled them on, wings poking through the holes at the back of his tunic, and then clasped the amulet on his neck.

 

“You sure this will work?” Arthur questioned.

 

Merlin shrugged. “Only one way to know.” He screwed up his face in concentration, eyes flashing gold before they disappeared beneath his lids. There was a ripple, like heat from a fire, and then his tail and wings vanished.

 

“You did it!” Arthur exclaimed, marveling at how _normal_ Merlin looked. He could be anyone, with his scruffy hair and worn clothes. He walked around Merlin, and promptly tripped on his tail.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed. “They only _look_ invisible. They’re still there.”

 

Arthur pushed himself up and dusted off his trousers, flushing. “I knew that.” He reached forwards carefully, into what looked like thin air, and grasped the edge of Merlin’s wing. “You’ll have to be careful. No one can know what you are. Understood?”

 

Merlin nodded, but he looked far too unconcerned. “I’m always careful.”

 

“You’ve never been around humans, Merlin. It’s a city. If someone knocks into you…”

 

“I’ll be careful,” Merlin said more firmly, tucking the amulet out of sight beneath his neckerchief. “Don’t worry, Arthur. It’s going to be fine. I can feel it.”

 

Arthur shook his head. “You and your feelings.” Aithusa flew up to perch on Merlin’s shoulder, and he sighed. “What are we going to do about her?”

 

With a flash of his eyes, the knapsack flew into Merlin’s hands. He held it up. “Well, she got here in this…”

 

“Merlin, you’re not bringing a dragon into my castle.”

 

“Well, technically I am, since, you know, I am a dragon.”

 

“You have an illusion. You can’t disguise a baby dragon.”

 

“I’ll hide her in your chambers. No one will ever know.”

 

“Merlin, servants come into my chambers. They’d find her.”

 

“Well, fire them. Can’t you do all that yourself?”

 

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. A grin curled his mouth. “Or….” he drawled, “you could be my servant.”

 

“What?” Merlin looked offended. “I’m not a servant. I’m a _dragon.”_

 

“No one else knows that, do they?”

 

“If they did…”

 

“Then you’d be a dead dragon. Look-” Arthur changed tact. “If you were my servant, you would be with me all the time. It would be the perfect excuse. Remember, you’re just a peasant here. I’m a Prince. We can’t even be friends.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because…” Arthur searched for an explanation. “That’s just the way it is. Now, will you be my servant or not?”

 

Merlin sighed. “Alright. But I’m not licking your boots or whatever it is they do.”

 

“I trust you’ll be the most incompetent servant I’ve ever had. Just stay quiet, don’t address me, and for God’s sake, don’t do any magic.”

 

“I have to do magic. I can’t just stop.”

 

“Just don’t do it where anyone else can see. Alright?”

 

Merlin nodded. “Alright. Can we go now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Aithusa clambered into the knapsack at a sharp whistle from Merlin and they turned towards Camelot, side by side.

 

* * *

 

Arthur glanced over at Merlin, taking in the open awe on his face as he stared up at the looming castle. The red flags snapped in the breeze. There were people bustling by or selling wares; the chatter home to Arthur’s ears. He stuck close to Merlin, shielding him from unsuspecting people and hoping his tail was out of the way. When they reached the courtyard, the guards noticed them and sounded an alarm. In minutes, Arthur’s knights were pouring out, faces lighting up as they caught sight of him.

 

“Arthur!” Leon exclaimed in astonishment, clasping arms with him. “We’ve been looking all over. We thought the bandits might have gotten you.”

 

Arthur shook his head. “I managed to get away. It took longer than I expected to make my way back.”

 

“Well, I for one am very glad you’re alright. Come, Morgana’s been worried sick. I’m sure she’ll want to see you.”

 

“And what of my father?”

 

Leon hesitated, and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. “The news of your disappearance...it hit him hard.” He glanced around the courtyard. “Come, let us talk inside.”

 

Arthur nodded, then jerked his head at Merlin. “Merlin, come on.”

 

“Who’s this?” Leon tilted his head, curls flopping.

 

“This is Merlin,” Arthur said, curling a hand around his arm. “He gave me aid during my journey back...and he’s to be my new manservant.”

 

Merlin grinned affably, waving. “Hullo.”

 

Leon nodded in reply and Arthur followed him up the steps, Merlin trailing behind.

 

“Your father has not been well,” Leon murmured, careful of prying ears as they strode down the hall. “He has not spoken since you disappeared. Gaius fears he is not long for this world.”

 

Arthur swallowed, pushing down the mingled feelings of grief and guilt. For all his father’s sins, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to hate him the way Morgana did. A part of him was still just a child looking for his father’s approval and never seeming to measure up.

 

“I will see him later,” Arthur said, keeping his voice even. “For now, I’d like a report of everything that’s happened while I’ve been gone. Meet me in the council chambers in an hour.”

 

They reached his room and paused outside; Leon gave a small bow.

 

“Yes, my lord,” he said, and then turned, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone. Arthur pushed through the door, almost surprised at the way it all looked the same. So much had changed in the last few days, so many revelations had turned his world upside down, that for some reason he expected everything else to change. But no, the bed was the same, the curtains were drawn back, the table was a little dusty but otherwise unchanged. He felt like a stranger here.

 

He hefted the knapsack and strode to the small antechamber, releasing Aithusa. She flapped about the room, poking her nose into the sparse furniture and sneezing at the dust.

 

“Stay,” Arthur said firmly, backing out through the doorway.

 

Aithusa’s wings drooped and she chirped sadly.

 

“Stay,” Arthur repeated and then shut the door, slumping into a chair at the table. Merlin was still exploring, touching everything in his room like it was strange and unfamiliar. Well, it was to him, Arthur supposed.

 

“So, what do you think of Camelot?” Arthur asked.

 

Merlin ceased his pacing to perch on the edge of the table facing Arthur, squinting suspiciously at the chair. “It’s so….bright. And loud. I never knew there could be so many people. But it’s…” He smiled. “Beautiful, like you said.”

 

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, at least.”

 

An invisible tail thwacked against his ankles and Arthur smiled. The door rattled then flew open and a flurry of green came hustling towards Arthur. He stood just in time for Morgana to crash into him, wrapping her arms around him so tight he thought his ribs would break.

 

“Morgana,” he wheezed.

 

She let him go abruptly, face schooled into blankness but eyes suspiciously wet, and hit him on the arm.

 

“Ow, Morgana-”

 

“I thought you were _dead.”_ She scowled. “Don’t you _ever_ do anything like that again.”

 

“Why Morgana, I didn’t know you cared.”

 

Morgana sniffed haughtily, but her eyes softened as she rolled them. “You’re intolerable. I was about to seize the kingdom for myself if you didn’t return.”

 

“I’m sure you were,” Arthur replied. “You’d make a terrifying Queen. I’m amazed you haven’t plotted against me already.”

 

“Who says I haven’t?” Morgana paused, catching sight of Merlin, who was watching the exchange with bemusement. “And who’s this?”

 

“Ah. This is Merlin. He’s my...manservant. Merlin, this is the lady Morgana, my sister.”

 

“Half,” Morgana corrected. She scanned Merlin up and down, then squinted and cocked her head. “You…”

 

Merlin was tilting his head as well, looking curious. “You have magic.”

 

Morgana gasped, face draining of color. “How do you know that? Who are you?” She stared at him with open fear. “I’ve seen you before...”

 

Merlin reached under his neckerchief, pulling the amulet off his head, and his dragon features reappeared. Morgana gasped again, eyes riveted to his wings in wonder.

 

“You’re…”

 

“A dragon.”

 

“A dragon,” Morgana repeated breathlessly. “But I thought...I thought…”

 

“You may want to sit down,” Arthur said with a sigh. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh,” Morgana breathed, as she ran a hand over Aithusa’s scales. “She’s beautiful.”

 

“She likes you,” Merlin commented, smiling.

 

“I can’t believe it. _Dragons.”_ Morgana looked up at Arthur. “You know what this means.”

 

“What?”

 

“It means Uther didn’t succeed. He did everything he could to wipe out magic, and he didn’t succeed. It’s been thriving right under his nose the whole time.” She smiled, slightly manic. “And when he dies, it will return. I’ve Seen it. I didn’t understand what I was seeing, but now I do. Magic will return and so will the dragons.”

 

“It will take time,” Arthur said carefully. “The people don’t trust magic, not anymore. And the dragons...it will terrify them.”

 

“Let them be afraid,” Morgana growled, clutching Aithusa to her chest. “Fear is not an excuse for ignorance. Magic has lived in the shadows too long.”

 

“I know.” Arthur set a hand on her shoulder. “I know, Morgana. I swore I’d set magic free and I will.”

 

Morgana nodded after a moment, softening. “I know.” She reached out and squeezed Arthur’s hand. “You’re a good man. And it won’t be long until you’re King.”

 

Arthur swallowed. “Father.”

 

Morgana’s expression was uncharacteristically sympathetic. “Go. See him while you can. I’ll stay with Merlin.”

 

“Thank you.” Arthur glanced back at Merlin, checking he was fine with Morgana, before leaving.

 

His father’s room was dim and chilled, the pale figure lying on the bed a mere shadow of what he once was. Gaius looked up from his bedside, face craggy and worn but eyes full of warmth.

 

“Arthur. I heard you had returned safely. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you in one piece.”

 

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Gaius.” He came to a stop by the bed, tracing the weathered lines of his father’s face, the pallor of his skin.

 

“I’m sorry, sire,” Gaius said quietly. “I’m afraid he’s not long for this world.”

 

“How long?”

 

“A week, no more.” Gaius rested a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I’ll give you a moment.”

 

Arthur nodded silently, taking Gaius’ vacated chair beside the bed as the door closed with a quiet _shush._

 

“Father.”

 

Uther stirred, opening his eyes, and blinked at him in wonder. “Arthur. I thought you were gone.”

 

“I’m here now.” He took his father’s hand, clasping it tightly.

 

His father smiled, a tired tug of his lips. “You always did….”

 

“Always did what?” Arthur prompted when his father trailed off.

 

Uther patted his hand feebly. “Now, now Igraine, there’s no need to worry…” His eyes slipped shut and he breathed deeply in sleep. Arthur swiped away a tear and lingered a moment longer before he carefully set his father’s hand on the bed, standing.

 

He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath before exiting the chambers, pulling his composure around him like a shroud. He visited the armory, flagged down Leon to get an update on the patrols, then attended council. Cenred was indeed pushing at their borders, a war imminent. A war they weren’t sure they could win.

 

It was late by the time he was finished, ordering food and a bath brought up to his chambers. When he opened the door, he found Gwen and Morgana cooing over Aithusa and Merlin surrounded by piles of flowers.

 

“What on earth is going on in here?” Arthur questioned, torn between amusement and horror. Anyone could walk in on the very obviously magical scene in front of him.

 

“Nothing,” Morgana said, as Gwen sobered instantly and Merlin beamed at him, a purple flower stuck in his neckerchief. Arthur narrowed his eyes at it, wondering who had put it there and feeling irrationally upset.

 

“Come join us,” Merlin said cheerily. “Morgana’s trying to learn how to conjure flowers.”

 

“I can see that.” Arthur sighed. “Morgana, don’t you have something else to be doing?”

 

Morgana stood with a roll of her eyes. “I can take a hint, Arthur. I’ll leave you two alone.” She hooked her arm through Gwen’s. “Come on, Gwen. Let’s go spar.”

 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Arthur said, though he had long since given up trying to keep Morgana away from swords. At least she and Gwen could protect themselves, if it ever came down to it.

 

Morgana just smirked, brushing past in a whirlwind of hair and silk. Gwen barely had time to give him a flustered nod before she was dragged out, the door closing behind her.

 

“Merlin, put Aithusa back in her room,” he sighed. “Before someone sees her.”

 

Merlin pouted, but coaxed Aithusa back into the antechamber, barring the door after her and stepping up behind Arthur, warm hands rubbing over his back.

 

“You look tired,” he commented, hooking his chin over Arthur’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

 

Arthur shook his head, swaying back into Merlin’s heat unconsciously. “My father has grown worse. Gaius says he has a week at best.”

 

“Gaius?” There was something in Merlin’s voice Arthur couldn’t pinpoint.

 

“The court physician.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.” Merlin’s hands smoothed up his ribs, gentle points of heat, and he pressed a soft kiss to the side of Arthur’s neck, making him melt against him.

 

A knock on the door made them jump apart, Arthur taking a moment to catch his breath before calling, “Enter!”

 

A small retinue of servants pushed through the door, laden with food and lugging hot bathwater. It took scarce minutes for them to arrange everything, disappearing again with sketched bows.

 

Arthur began to strip, smirking when Merlin flushed and turned around hastily. He stepped into the hot water, sinking down with a groan and leaning against the edge.

 

“Merlin,” he said, “come here.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Get in. You could certainly use a bath.”

 

“Are you saying I smell?”

 

“Merlin.”

 

Merlin sighed and then started stripping his clothes off, approaching shyly. Arthur reached out and grasped his wrist, tugging him closer until Merlin could step into the tub, kneeling with his legs on either side of Arthur’s.

 

Arthur fingered the amulet on Merlin’s chest, rewarded by a hitch of breath. “Take it off. I want to see you.”

 

Shaky fingers drew the amulet over Merlin’s head and his tail and wings came into view, dark scales blending into pale skin.

 

“Beautiful,” Arthur murmured, stroking his hands down the ridges of his spine.

 

Merlin blushed, a palpable heat, and grabbed for the soap. “We should get clean.”

 

“Of course.” Arthur let Merlin drag the soap over his body, slender fingers exploring every inch of skin. Merlin’s tail draped over the side of the tub and he ruffled his wings, spreading them out behind him. Arthur stole the soap from Merlin and used it to scrub between the scales until they were glistening, amused when the wings twitched at his touch.

 

“Ticklish?” he teased.

 

“No,” Merlin said unconvincingly, twitching his wings away. Arthur dragged a finger up the edge and Merlin shuddered, expression screwing up adorably as he splashed Arthur with his tail.

 

“Hey!”

 

Merlin laughed, eyes crinkling, and Arthur splashed him back, diving in to spider his fingers against Merlin’s sides. Merlin crumbled against him, laughing in hiccuping breaths as he tried to fend him off. A tingle went up Arthur’s spine and he found his hands held still in the air by an invisible force, Merlin’s eyes golden as he fought for breath.

 

“You cheated,” Arthur accused, but there was no heat in his voice. Merlin glanced up at him, smiling, and he found it hard to breathe, spellbound by that golden gaze. The thought of Merlin having this much power over him, holding him off with nothing but a thought, was so arousing he thought he’d come right there and then.

 

He leaned forwards and Merlin met him halfway, bare thighs warm against Arthur’s as they kissed. Arthur found his hands freed and made good use of them, running them up and down Merlin’s sides. Merlin shuddered and growled against his lips, hips grinding down against him, and Arthur saw stars.

 

“Merlin, I’m-” he gasped, and then Merlin was attacking his neck, hips circling, and the heat built until Merlin sank pointed canines into his neck and Arthur came with a gasp, Merlin close behind. Magic skittered over his skin, licking like flames, and then Merlin slumped, forehead dropping against Arthur’s shoulder.

 

They both sat for a long minute, just breathing, until Arthur could feel his fingers again. He stroked his hands down Merlin’s back, feeling the rumbling vibration of a purr start up again in his chest.

 

“Good?” he questioned, irrationally fearing he’d somehow done something wrong.

 

“Mmph,” Merlin responded, licking at his neck before mashing his face into it again. “Hrrg.”

 

“Figures you’d be useless afterwards,” Arthur sighed with a soft smile.

 

Merlin’s stomach rumbled.

 

Arthur laughed, pushing at him. “Come on, get up. We should eat.”

 

With much coaxing, he got Merlin up, dried him off with a towel and the both of them grabbed food off the laden plates. They scarfed it down without care before falling into bed, tangled up with each other. Merlin fitted himself to Arthur’s back, tail wrapping around his ankle and wings folding around them both like a cocoon, the heat of his body seeping down into Arthur’s bones. He extinguished the candles with a flash of his eyes, plunging them into the gathering darkness, cool night air drifting through the open windows.

 

“What do you think?” Arthur whispered into the dark. “Of Camelot?”

 

Merlin nuzzled at his neck, arms tightening around him. “I think it’s beautiful. Like its Prince.”

 

* * *

 

_One week later_

 

“Merlin!”

 

Arthur waited expectantly, counting the seconds.

 

“Merlin!” he shouted again.

 

Finally there came the sound of footsteps and Merlin poked his head into Arthur’s chambers, hair in disarray and mouth turned down in annoyance.

 

“What?” he asked, with a complete lack of deference. Arthur suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Where the hell have you been?”

 

“Erm.” Merlin shifted guiltily. “Well, I told Gaius I’d help out, since I know medicine, and he sent me to get herbs this morning and I lost track of time. Then Aithusa _might_ have set something on fire and I had to chase her all over the castle and -”

 

Arthur cut off his rambling with a raised hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “At least tell me you mended my tunic. I need it for council today.”

 

Merlin winced. “Ah. That.”

 

“That.”

 

“Well, you see, I didn’t really have time, you know, what with everything. I meant to do it, honestly, and then I...forgot.”

 

“You forgot.”

 

“Yes?”

 

Arthur sighed. “Merlin. You really are the worst servant in the seven kingdoms.” 

 

“Thank you, sire.” Merlin’s lips twitched in what Arthur suspected was pride. He bounced on his toes. “Well, since it’s not done, I can just…” He wiggled his fingers.

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “You forgot on purpose.”

 

Merlin looked offended. “I did not.”

 

“Yes you did. You just hate sewing.”

 

“Who doesn’t? Come on, all it would take is just a little…”

 

Arthur sighed, and opened his mouth, then closed it. Sighed again. He pointed a finger at Merlin. “Okay. Just this once.”

 

Merlin beamed.

 

“But this is the last time,” Arthur warned, lowering his voice. “You can’t keep using magic for your chores.”

 

“Sure,” Merlin agreed too easily. He rushed forwards to kiss Arthur on the cheek before breezing back through the door. “Thanks Arthur!”

 

The door banged shut behind him. Arthur sat down heavily in a chair and picked up his goblet, draining it in one long gulp.

 

“Gods help me,” he muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

#  Chapter 5

* * *

 

It was a cloudy day when Uther Pendragon died, three weeks after Arthur first met a dragon. Arthur held his hand as he passed, long since fallen into a deep sleep. His last words had been _I have always loved you._ It was the first time he had said those words to Arthur, and the last.

 

The funeral was a solemn affair, but Arthur had been prepared for weeks, and shed tears only once, in the quiet of the hall as he bent over his father’s body. He would always love his father, but with his death came freedom; freedom long denied to so many.

 

Morgana did not shed a tear, eyes glimmering with barely repressed hope, boring into Arthur like daggers. Merlin did not leave his side, exuding a quiet sympathy despite the wrongs Uther had done to his family. He had never met someone so pure of heart, Arthur thought.

 

His eyes sought out Merlin in the crowd as he was crowned, the weight of the crown almost too much to bear. _Long live the king,_ the crowd shouted, and Arthur felt responsibility settle on his shoulders.

 

There was no time to adjust. As soon as the last breath left Uther, Cenred’s forces advanced, an army amassing at the border.  

 

Arthur was drawn into war council, making plans for battle, the city preparing for siege. He barely saw Merlin, who was still helping Gaius. It had come to light that Gaius was the one who helped Merlin’s family and they’d been inseparable ever since. He wouldn’t admit that he missed Merlin after such a short time knowing him, but…

 

He did miss him. Merlin had become the center of his world, a glowing point of light that illuminated what he’d been missing all these years. It felt like he’d known him forever, like he _could_ know him forever. Merlin slotted into place next to his heart like a sword sliding home into its sheath; like he was meant to be there all along.

 

“Arthur?” Merlin cracked one eye open, face mashed into the pillow. “Wazzit?”

 

“Nothing,” Arthur murmured back, running a hand down Merlin’s spines until his eyes slipped shut again. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“Kay,” Merlin mumbled, shifting closer. Aithusa, curled between them, grumbled and curled tighter against Arthur’s chest, the heat of her scales seeping into his skin. Arthur drew a deep breath and watched them, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains and glimmering off iridescent scales. Tomorrow, they would do battle. Tomorrow, everything could be different. But for today, he had this.

 

* * *

 

The morning of the battle dawned crisp and clear, a grey cast to the sky. Merlin’s fingers were sure as he helped Arthur into his armor, face drawn in worry and something deeper, more evasive.

 

“I won’t be coming with you,” Merlin said, apology lacing his words.

 

Arthur swallowed down disappointment. Merlin wasn’t a warrior, he reminded himself. He shouldn't have to fight. But even so, he’d thought…

 

“Right,” he said, sharper than intended. “Of course.”

 

“Arthur-”

 

“No, it’s fine.” He turned away from Merlin’s anguished eyes. “You should go.”

 

There was a pause, an intake of breath. “We’re going to win,” Merlin said softly. “Trust me.”

 

“I do,” Arthur replied.

 

Merlin turned, and Arthur thought he was leaving before he saw him duck into the antechamber, emerging with a cloth-wrapped bundle. He approached Arthur with uncharacteristic somberness. He stopped before him and undid the covering to reveal a gleaming sword, runes etched down the side of the blade. It seemed to glow in the light, humming softly in Arthur’s ears.

 

“They say that a blade forged in a dragon’s breath can fell any enemy,” Merlin said, voice hushed.

 

Arthur reached out, running a finger down the smooth metal and feeling shivers run up his spine. He looked up at Merlin, the pieces coming together. “You-”

 

Merlin nodded. “I made it for you. Its name is Excalibur.”

 

“It’s beautiful.” He grasped the sword, lifting it from Merlin’s grip. The light sang down the length of it, the hum reverberating in Arthur’s bones, and it felt _right,_ like an extension of his arm. It felt like he was destined to hold it, like it had been made just for him. It _had_ been made just for him, by the most powerful being in all the lands. The enormity of that struck him dumb.

 

“It will keep you safe,” Merlin murmured, “while I am gone.”

 

Arthur lowered the sword, searching Merlin’s eyes. “You’re going somewhere.” But deep down, he knew Merlin would never abandon him, least of all out of cowardice. If he had to leave, it was for a good reason.

 

Merlin’s mouth tugged upwards at the corner. “Yes. If I’m right, the battle will be won.”

 

“And if you’re wrong?”

 

Merlin shrugged. “Then I will protect you, or die by your side.”

 

Arthur felt the breath leave him. Many people had pledged their lives to him, many people had died for him, but none compared to the depth of Merlin’s promise. _I love you,_ Arthur heard, and he felt it in kind. The feeling filled him up, consumed him, until he thought he might drown in the blue of Merlin’s eyes.

 

He surged forwards, kissing Merlin fervently, desperately. Merlin responded, mouth opening to him and warm hands gripping his tunic, clinging as if they might never let go.

 

But they did have to let go. They could not stay here, as much as they wanted. Arthur broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Merlin’s, both of them breathing heavily into the silence.

 

“You have to go,” Arthur whispered.

 

“Yes.” Merlin’s fingers tightened in his tunic.

 

“Come back to me.”

 

“Always,” Merlin breathed.

 

A breath, then two, and Merlin pulled away. When Arthur opened his eyes, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Arthur stood tall, Excalibur gripped tightly in his hand, blood singing in his veins. He could hear the breathing of the men behind him, the soft clanking of armor. Before them stood Cenred’s army, clad in black, rows stretching out seemingly forever. They outnumbered them two to one. He raised his arm, the sword catching the light and gleaming.

 

“For the love of Camelot!”

 

With a roar, they sprung forwards, time suspended and then rushing on as the two armies collided. The world narrowed to _block, slash, jab,_ Excalibur flashing through the air. Arthur’s heart thundered in his ears, muscles burning and breathing labored. The tide of soldiers was relentless, a sea of black spreading over red like spilled ink. Arthur paused to swipe a hand across his brow, and realized they were losing.

 

A crack and then the soldier coming for him was thrown back, hitting the ground with a thud. He looked up and saw Morgana, silver armor in place and hair braided back, fighting with sword and magic alike. He grinned, catching her eye, and twirled Excalibur, fighting with renewed vigor.

 

It wasn’t enough. They were losing ground, being driven back by Cenred’s army. Morgana’s magic was faltering, exhaustion apparent, a cut bleeding on her arm. They fought back to back, sister and brother, the last Pendragons making their last stand.

 

“If I die,” Arthur panted, trying to catch his breath. “It’s been an honor to fight by your side.”

 

Morgana’s eyes were gold when she looked at him, more human than he’d ever seen her. Sweat dampened her hairline, a few drops of blood spattering her face.

 

“If I die,” she said, “I expect a statue.”

 

Arthur barked a laugh, incongruous with their surroundings.

 

“If _we’re_ to die,” he said, “let us die together.”

 

Morgana grasped his hand and squeezed once. “Together.”

 

They took a breath, as one, and turned to face their fate, heads held high. Together.

 

A roar split the air.

 

The thrum of wings sounded, growing louder, and then the sky was filled with dragons.

 

They swooped down, scales gleaming in the sunlight and flames licking at the earth. Arthur hefted his sword, facing down the row of Cenred’s soldiers, and suddenly black scales gleamed in his vision, the earth shaking as Merlin landed in front of him. He roared and flames spilled from his open mouth, the heat raising the blood to Arthur’s face. Arthur’s breath caught in his chest as Merlin carved a circle around them, incandescent in his fury.

 

When the dust settled, a strange quiet fell over them and Merlin turned. His long neck arched in a bow, head dipping towards Arthur.

 

“My King,” he rumbled.

 

Arthur strode forwards, reaching up to lay a hand on Merlin’s scales, pressing their foreheads together.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

 

Merlin breathed softly against him, warm puffs of air. Arthur pulled back and walked to Merlin’s side, resting a hand on his wing.

 

“Ready?”

 

Merlin smiled, sharp-toothed, and nudged Arthur with his nose, pushing him up onto his back. Arthur grasped the ridges of his neck with one hand, raising Excalibur with the other. It caught the light, drawing the eyes of all those on the battlefield, and Arthur looked down to see Morgana give him a nod, a wicked smirk curling her mouth.

 

“For the love of Camelot!” Arthur shouted, and a renewed cheer went up as Merlin lifted into the sky with a powerful beat of his wings. Arthur’s breath rushed from his chest, the wind ruffling his hair. The battlefield seemed so small from above, Camelot red cloaks driving back black. He caught sight of his knights, Percival and Gwaine fighting back to back, Leon’s curls dark with sweat. Merlin’s scales were warm under him, his magic singing in Arthur’s bones.

 

They soared over the battlefield, watching as Cenred’s army turned tail. Dragons chased them off with flames and claws, Camelot soldiers taking readily to their new allies. It seemed that despite Uther’s years of hatred, they would rather have dragons on their side than against them. Arthur knew it would take more time for some; they would face resistance, but there were people who still remembered the old days and who would stand beside him, people who remembered the dragons.

 

He leaned low over Merlin’s neck, Excalibur tight in his grip, and thought perhaps he did believe in destiny after all.

 

* * *

# Epilogue

* * *

 

Arthur lowered the circlet, setting it on Merlin’s brow. “Arise, Merlin Emrys, Dragon-Lord of Camelot and King’s Consort.”

 

Merlin looked up, eyes glimmering with pride and something deeper, bittersweet. In the audience, Hunith was openly sobbing, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Kilgharrah was looking in through a window, inscrutable, and Aithusa was perched on the sill.

 

Merlin took his hand and rose, turning towards the audience, towards the people of Camelot who were finally united once more. His wings curved over his shoulders, tail curled against the stone. The circlet gleamed silver on his head, dragon’s wings etched into the fine metal.

 

Arthur glanced to his right, where Morgana stood, his advisor in both magic and politics. Her eyes were trained on Gwen in the audience; the look that passed between them was something too precious to name. Her head was held high, dark curls spilling down her back, resplendent in a gown of green.

 

Arthur turned once more to Merlin, meeting him in a kiss.

 

“Long live the King!” someone shouted, and the rest took up the chant, the hall filling with sound. It seemed to last forever, and afterwards the celebrations dragged long into the night.

 

Finally, they separated from the crowd, retreating to their chambers. Aithusa was now staying with Morgana, the two of them near inseparable, and Merlin no longer had to hide his dragon form. The dragons were settling in, spreading out across the lands. Arthur’s most trusted knights were riding out to spread the word, to tell the people that magic had been legalized and the dragons were returning. With the dragons on their side, no kingdom dared to challenge them; Arthur thought that perhaps uniting Albion wasn’t such a far-off dream after all.

 

He trailed in after Merlin, locking the door behind them. Merlin sauntered towards him, looped his arms around his neck and kissed him. They traded slow, sensual kisses for a while, gradually moving towards the bed as Merlin unclasped his cloak and drew his mail and doublet over his head. Arthur’s crown was tossed on the table along with his sword, their boots both discarded somewhere in the corner.

 

The back of Arthur’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell backwards, landing with a soft thud and smiling up at Merlin. Merlin crawled over him, hands planted to either side of him and wings draping around them like curtains. Merlin kissed down his neck, nibbling at the skin and drawing stuttering breaths from Arthur. He struggled to untie Arthur’s tunic; sitting up, his eyes flashed and then it was gone.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed.

 

“What?”

 

“You better hope you can get that back.”

 

Merlin waved a hand vaguely. “It’ll be fine.”

 

“Idiot,” Arthur said fondly, dragging him back down to connect their lips. His own hands sought out Merlin’s tunic, undoing the ties and slipping it from his shoulders. He ran his fingers over the ridge on Merlin’s back, tracing where it gave way to smooth scales. Merlin shuddered and nipped at his collarbone, tail thrashing and curling around Arthur’s ankle. He smelled of fire and brimstone, the silver circlet still gleaming on his brow and scales shimmering in the dim light. He was beautiful, and he was Arthur’s.

 

“I want you to take me,” Arthur breathed into Merlin’s ear, and was rewarded by a low rumble. He coaxed Merlin through the process, helping him open Arthur up with slow strokes of his fingers. When Merlin finally settled between his legs and pressed in, it felt like coming home. Merlin’s magic was all around him, skating across his skin like flickers of lightning and sinking deep into his bones, warming him from the inside out. Merlin’s breath was hot against him, sharp teeth pressing bruises into his skin. Arthur lost himself in the flood of sensation, the heat between them simmering and building.

 

Merlin growled, growing bolder, and Arthur found his wrists pinned above his head by magic. It felt like liquid heat wrapping around his wrists and when he tested his bonds they tightened slightly, just on the verge of being painful. Merlin growled again and Arthur threw his head back as he came, pleasure shooting up his spine. Merlin followed him a moment later, eyes flashing gold.

 

Arthur had barely caught his breath when Merlin pulled out and straddled him, leaning down to kiss him.

 

“Now, I want you to do that to me,” he murmured against Arthur’s lips.

 

Arthur moaned at the thought, already growing interested again; he thought hazily that there might have been magic involved in that. Merlin grabbed the vial of oil and coated Arthur’s fingers before drawing them back towards himself. Arthur complied, swallowing the small sounds Merlin made with kisses as he worked him open. When he was ready, Merlin lifted himself up and sank down, one hand braced on Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s breath stuttered, hands tightening on Merlin’s sides at the blissful heat.

 

Unable to resist, he surged upwards, locking his arms around Merlin’s back and kissing him feverishly. Merlin’s hands cradled his face, palms scorching hot, and he responded in kind, foreheads knocking together as he started to move. It lasted longer this time, both of them lost in the feel of each other’s body, the air thickening with heat. Merlin’s eyes were solid gold, small flames licking along his arms.

 

“I love you,” Arthur murmured, meeting his eyes.

 

Merlin inhaled sharply, searching Arthur’s eyes.  “I love you too,” he breathed, and then he was coming, tipping Arthur over the edge with him.

 

The curtains erupted into flame.

 

They froze, staring at each other with wide eyes, and the fire went out as the gold faded from Merlin’s eyes. They collapsed in a heap on the mattress, laughing until tears came to their eyes.

 

When the last of the laughter abated, they lay curled against each other, skin slick with sweat. Merlin’s tail curled more tightly around Arthur’s leg, wings draping over them like a blanket.

 

“Say it again?” he whispered.

 

“I love you,” Arthur said, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I think I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

 

Merlin smiled, bright as the sun, hair mussed around the circlet. He was a dragon, and he was royalty. But most importantly, he was Arthur’s.

 

The time of the dragons had come, and as they lay there, Pendragon and dragon, they felt the world finally, perfectly, align.


End file.
